


So Many Uses

by round_robin



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: 4+1 Things, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Clothing Kink, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Kilts, M/M, Multi, References to Macbeth, Risa - Freeform, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-18 19:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18125432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin
Summary: “No. It's a kilt. Haven't you seen a kilt before?”“Not off Earth, I haven't.” Will looked him up and down. It was a proper kilt, what looked like a family tartan, the shoes, the sporran, he had it all. And to top it all off, a modified Starfleet dress jacket. Will had to admit, he kind of loved it. The line of the kilt was very flattering, and it looked sharp with the Starfleet dress uniform jacket. “How'd you get the dress uniform modified?”“This is one of the dress options. Rarely used, mind you, but they have it in the uniform guidelines. I talked to a few of the others. We're all going to wear them. You in?”Always up for a bit of fun, Will nodded. “Sure, I'm in.”





	So Many Uses

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a 4+1. I wanted to do a 5+1, but couldn't think of a sixth scene. So, basically "Four Times Riker Had Sex in a Kilt, and One Time He Didn't." I can't remember what got me onto this train of thought, other than "Will Riker would look good in a kilt" popped into my head one day and now here we are. The original characters are quick and, you know, we're all very aware of how much Riker gets around, so I figured a few new characters here and there wouldn't hurt anyone.
> 
> Please let me know about any typos, and as always, enjoy.

1\. For Official Reasons

To be honest, Will didn't know where it started. One of his early ships—the Pegasus, the Potemkin, he didn't remember which—had a diplomatic mission to Caldos colony. It was a ceremony to commemorate the founding, or an anniversary, or possibly a famous dead Scotsman. The details were all a little fuzzy, but Riker definitely remembered the after party.

One of his close friends, Mason Stewart, hadn't stopped talking about their visit to Caldos colony since the Captain announced it. “My granny lives there,” he said. “Her folks were Scottish and she always says, it's like stepping back onto the Highlands.” Mason, who looked Scottish enough with his red-brown hair and face full of freckles, grew up in Minnesota. The similar climate to Alaska gave him and Riker a lot to talk about when they roomed together as ensigns, and made them fast friends. He'd never seen Mason like this, though, so eager to see the planet his family thought of as a second home. After a few days of Mason talking his ear off, Will started to get a little excited too.

The day before they arrived, Mason grabbed Will in the corridor. “Stop by my quarters later, I got something to show you.”

A little later, after he finished his shift, Will went to Mason's quarters. The door opened to reveal Mason standing there wearing... “A skirt?” Will laughed.

Mason frowned for a second, then drew himself up. “ _No_. It's a kilt. Haven't you seen a kilt before?”

“Not off Earth, I haven't.” Will looked him up and down. It was a proper kilt, what looked like a family tartan, the shoes, the sporran, he had it all. And to top it all off, a modified Starfleet dress jacket.

“We're going to an Earth colony. I finally have a reason to wear one. My gran will love it!”

Will had to admit, he kind of loved it too. The line of the kilt was very flattering to Mason's legs, to say the least, and it looked sharp with the Starfleet dress uniform jacket. “How'd you get the dress uniform modified?”

“I called up Starfleet, this is one of the dress options. Rarely used, mind you, but they have it in the uniform guidelines. I talked to a few of the others. We're all going to wear them. You in?”

Always up for a bit of fun, Will nodded. “Sure, I'm in.”

Will had to admit, as soon as he put the kilt on, part of him never wanted to take it off. He finally understood why women still used the skirt option on the Starfleet uniform—it was very comfortable, with the right amount of room to breathe. Walking around his quarters, he felt all the confidence in the Universe. At least, until Mason dropped by and frowned at him.

“Something looks weird.” He circled around Riker for a moment, frowning the whole time. Will thought he did everything right, he read the uniform guidelines carefully, and it looked great in the mirror. Finally, Mason's face lit up. “Hey, you still got your underwear on?”

What an odd question. “Of course.”

“Ah, see that's the problem. With a proper kilt, you aren't supposed to wear anything under it. If you do, it's basically just a skirt. See?” Mason turned around and pulled his kilt up, baring his naked ass. It was nothing Will hadn't seen before (they did room together once) but it was still a shock. Going commando to an official Starfleet ceremony? Riker never knew Mason to be that... brash.

“Are you kidding?” he sputtered. “No, you're joking.”

“Look it up!”

Mason waited patiently while Will rechecked the guidelines. _'Traditional Scottish dress calls for a kilt with no undergarments, however, this is up to the preference of the Starfleet member...'_

“Okay, so it's traditional...”

“And fun! C'mon, Will. We're all doing it.” Mason batted his eyelashes and Will relented.

“Fine.” Turning around, he reached under the kilt and quickly shucked his underwear, throwing it towards the bedroom door to be picked up later. “Let's get going before I loose my nerve.”

“That's the spirit!” Mason wrapped an arm around Will's shoulders, probably trying to be friendly, but there was more pressure there than normal... like he was holding on, making sure Will didn't have second thoughts and rush back to his room.

“How did you even know?” Will grumbled as they got in the turbolift.

Mason shrugged. “It's all about the confidence of it. Trust me, a colony full of Scottish people, they'd notice too.”

A bunch of their other friends were wearing kilts too, and when Will asked how _traditional_ they all went, they said Mason convinced them too. So if the wind kicked up suddenly, it wasn't just Will's bare ass in front of a whole colony. That was comforting in its own way.

Mason hadn't oversold the trip, the colony and the planet were beautiful, rolling hills covered in emerald green grass with the smell of damp earth in the air. The ceremony itself was fairly normal, as far as Earth celebrations went—a few speeches, songs, bagpipes, a word from the governor—and Will was glad he wore a kilt. A lot of the men in the colony wore kilts, theirs a little more worn and rustic, less shiny Starfleet dress uniform. Before and a little after the ceremony, Will got a lot of compliments on his uniform. A lot, far more than he expected. In fact, as they were getting ready to beam back up to the ship, it felt like every woman in the colony and every man below the age of forty, had told Will how dashing he looked. He mentioned this to Mason and the others (maybe the locals were just impressed Starfleet went to all the trouble to wear traditional dress).

Mason frowned. “No one said anything like that to me. Except my granny.”

As they beamed up, the last thing Will saw was no less than three people in the crowd winking at him.

“C'mon,” Mason clapped him on the shoulder as soon as they reached the ship, “Grieg is having a party tonight. Breaking in her new officer's quarters. Let's go.”

“Yeah, I'll meet you there. I'm just gonna change first.”

“No, no.” Mason's hand stayed tight on his shoulder, steering Will away from the turbolift. “Everyone is going to wear their dress uniform stuff. It's an _officer_ party,” he said, like that made any sense. “Go and ditch the sporran and the jacket, then come meet me at Grieg's.”

Well, he got far today listening to Mason's slightly stupid ideas. Will made a quick stop at his quarters to remove the pouch and jacket before heading out again, feeling a little silly wandering around the ship with no underwear on.

Mendoa Grieg got promoted a full two months ago, but through some Starfleet bureaucratic backlog, her quarters didn't get assigned until ten days ago. Waiting so long after a promotion made her antsy, and the planned “intimate gathering” of friends to celebrate turned into a rager. The party was already in full swing when they got there, and Will did see a few of their friends still wearing their kilts. A few still had the jacket and sporran too.

For the next hour or so, they mingled and blew off steam with their friends and some of the younger officers. But Mason didn't stray far from Will's side. He seemed to be in the corner of Will's eye all night. They were standing at the drinks table talking to their friend Alton when he got called away by the promise of “real Scotch from the colony, no synthohol.”

Other guests milled around the room, talking, laughing, and a poker game started forming in the corner. Will gave half a thought to joining when he felt a hand on his hip. “Do you know how sexy you look in that?” Mason whispered in his ear. “I couldn't keep my eyes off you at the ceremony.”

A pleasant shiver ran down Will's neck. He licked his lips and turned to smirk at Mason. “You and half the colony.”

“Yeah, why do you think I'm so desperate to get my hands on you?” Mason's thumb dipped below the waist of the kilt, pausing for permission. It was only a few times, but when they roomed together, Mason and Will... they had some good nights. Blowing off steam, combating the loneliness, whatever it was, it was fun, and Will knew he could turn to Mason in the future for certain needs.

“Well?” Will said. “You've got me now. Wanna head back to my quarters?”

Mason shook his head. “Nah, I don't want to wait any more.”

Setting his glass on the bar table in front of him, Mason put both hands on Will's hips and sunk down to his knees. There was a quick gust of air and Mason's head slipped between Riker's knees.

“What the fuck...” Will hissed under his breath. “What are you doing?”

“Turn around, act natural,” Mason mumbled from under Will's kilt and between his fucking legs. Hot breath blew against his inner thigh and it took all Will had to remain standing.

After a little fumbling, Will managed to turn around and face the party. Part of him thought it might be even more suspicious to stand alone, glued to the table covered in alcohol, but the table did offer good cover for the insane man under his kilt. As soon as they were arranged, Mason wasted no time licking at his balls, making his way upwards. Will bit his thumb to hold back a moan. He bit it again when Mason sucked his cock into his mouth, tongue lashing, lips sucking like it was some sort of blowjob contest. Will's hand gripped the edge of the table. “ _Mason_ ,” he hissed. It was a good laugh, but they had to stop now. They were in a room full of people, for fuck's sake, they'd get caught any second now.

Mason didn't stop. Now that he had Will's cock in his mouth, he wasn't giving it up. The alternating suction and long licks started to do Will in. All he wanted to do was grab Mason's hair and make a real job of it, but he had to stand perfectly still and pretend everything was fine.

A tingle started to make its way down through Will's stomach. He never thought he'd be happy to come in public, but if it ended this stupid display, the sooner, the better. He fixed his eyes on the other side of the room, trying to clear his mind to make it go faster. Mendoa Greig caught his eye and smiled. “Shit,” Will hissed. “Mason, Mendoa sees me.” Mason said nothing, he just hummed into Will's skin, making his eyes cross.

Mendoa excused herself from her current conversation and headed their direction. “Shit,” he whispered again. “She's coming this way!”

“Hey Will,” Mendoa said, sitting down on the couch on the other side of the drinks table. She rested her arms on the back of the couch and smiled up at him, her large eyes sparkling in the lights of the party. “What do you think of my new quarters? Pretty great, right?”

“Yeah,” he managed to gasp out. Mendoa was sitting right in front of them and Mason showed no sign of stopping. His tongue wrapped around Riker's cock again. He pulled off for a second to lick down to Will's balls, then got right back to his job of driving Will insane. His cock was still firmly in Mason's mouth as Will tried to keep it together. “I don't know why, why it took them so long,” Will stuttered a bit, “My quarters were r-ready the next day.” The edge of the table dug into his palm. He didn't care, anything to distract.

“Right? I thought it was weird too. They said they had a request backlog. Just my luck, right?” She shifted up onto her knees, putting her nearly eye to eye with Will. And Mason kept fucking going. “You know, Will, you guys all looked really great at the ceremony today. But, can I tell you something if you promise not to tell the others?”

“Sure,” Will managed to squeak out. The tingle was building again, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Mason's mouth was too relentless, he was too tired, fighting against a very public orgasm was too much, he was so close to letting go.

Mendoa ran a finger from Will's collarbone down to the waist of the kilt, then back up. “You look the best in the kilt. Hands down, no one can compare. It's your confidence, so mesmerizing. You're always the sexiest man in the room, and today it was off the charts.”

Was the Universe conspiring to kill him? Mason's mouth wrapped around his cock was one thing, it would be enough on any normal day, but now Mendoa—one of the most attractive women on the ship—was chatting him up? Will was so close to blowing his load and moaning in her face, part of him didn't care if it killed him.

“T-thanks, Mendoa. That's really... nice, of you to say.”

“Anytime.” Suddenly, she leaned up a little farther, pressing her lips to Will's in a quick but pointed kiss. She smirked at the shock written across his face, giggling a little. “Hey, Mason,” she called towards Will's groin, much to his horror. “I get him when you're done.”

Mason stuck one arm out and gave her a thumbs up.

Will couldn't hold back any more. Holding tight to the edge of the table, he threw his head back and moaned. Mason sucked and licked, being careful not to let one drop of come escape. Will didn't care. Mendoa knew what they were up to, how much could she care if they messed up her new quarters?

Before he slumped forward on the couch, Mendoa caught him by the shoulders. Mason reappeared, his face hot and sweaty, hair mussed, and helped Will to the couch. They both stayed cuddled up next to Will, waiting for him to come back to the world.

When his vision finally cleared, Riker put one hand on Mason's knee, and one on Mendoa's. “Next time you two plan to kill me, at least do it in my quarters so I can fall asleep after.” They both laughed and started making plans for the after _after_ party.

His legs ached and he felt like he'd just run two PE courses in a row, but looking back, that was one of the better parties Riker ever went to.

 

~

 

2\. For Fun

Hands down, Risa was not only Will's favorite vacation spot, but one of his favorite places in the galaxy. Betazed was a close second, and the Alaskan wilderness on Earth always called to him, but Risa held a special place in his heart (and his loins). In all seriousness, Risa was very important to him. It's where he and Deanna took most of their vacations when they were together, it's where he met some of his closest friends. Sure, they started out as flings or one night trysts, but Will liked staying in contact with his intimate partners. They shared something special, why would he want to forget that?

This particular trip, he was by himself. He needed to blow off steam. After almost getting trapped on Nervala IV, his sudden promotion and transfer, he hardly had a minute to process it all. Risa was as good a place as any to clear his head.

As he was packing, he found the kilt pushed into the back of his closet. Fond memories of Mason and Mendoa keeping him occupied all night filled his mind. “Well, well,” Will whispered to himself, “let's see how Risa likes this.”

He didn't end up taking that kilt—too formal, too Starfleet. It was easy enough to get another. While Will didn't like using replicated fabrics for traditional cultural garments, this would do in a pinch. With his new promotion, he had access to more credits and more pull. It wouldn't be hard to order something more authentic next time he was near Earth.

The moment he stepped out of his room wearing a simple gray tartan kilt, black tank top, and his boots, heads started to turn. The warm Risa breeze ruffled the hem of the kilt and Will sighed. Ah, yes, this really was the only way to dress. If he'd known about the lovely feeling of a kilt back in his academy days, he might have pushed to make it his official duty uniform. Starfleet was surprisingly accommodating when it came to cultural clothing. And the kilt was traditionally worn into battle as well as to official events... He had half a mind to make the request now. He was a Commander now after all, he might hold some sway...

He made his way out to one of the many restaurants Risa had to offer and sat down at a patio table, his knees spread wide. The kilt draped nicely over his legs, covering well enough. It wasn't long before his bait started attracting attention.

A female with yellow skin, a long neck and bright green eyes slid into the chair next to him, her hand brushing the top of his knee, fingers curling around to caress his thigh. “What a unique ensemble,” she said, her voice melodic and sing-songy. “I don't believe I've seen anything like it before.”

“Thank you.” Will took her hand and ran his thumb across the back of her knuckles, then dipped to kiss the hand. “It's a sort of traditional dress from part of Earth. My name's Will Riker.”

“Slocheta.” The woman smiled at him, her eyes darting back and forth, taking in Will's legs and the tantalizing space between his knees.

They sat on the patio and talked for a few minutes, and it did not take long for Slocheta's hand to find it's way from his knee to higher up on his thigh. She slowly pushed the kilt back, little by little, until Will decided it would be prudent to take their conversation to a more private venue.

For the next five days, Riker did the same thing: he walked out to a different restaurant and spread his legs, waiting for people to come to him. It never failed. It seemed everyone wanted a piece of the handsome Starfleet officer in his quaint Earth garment. The night before his vacation ended, two men joined him for dinner and wasted no time getting their hands under the kilt. He felt a thumb brush against his balls and smirked. While he wasn't one for public sex, it was his last night on Risa...

Before long, he had one man pinned against a wall, moaning for more of his cock, while the other kneeled behind him, his tongue pressed between Will's cheeks. They were in a cabana on the beach, which wasn't exactly public, but voices floated over from a few other late night beach-goers, and by the time they were done, Will looked around to find they had amassed a small crowd. A few people tried to make plans with him for tomorrow, only to go away disappointed that he was leaving in the morning.

On Will's next trip to Risa, there were at least three shops selling kilts.

 

~

3\. For a Play

Dr. Crusher was very passionate when it came to the Enterprise's theatre program. She was well known for scouring her actors' closets in search of good costume pieces. Sure, they could replicate almost anything a play might ever need, but that didn't matter to Beverly, what mattered was the over all _feel_ of a production. If she thought Threepenny Opera would _feel_ more real if they used actual wool costumes instead of synthetic, then she'd search the ship for every scrap of wool she could find.

Will wasn't so thralled with the dramatic arts as some on the ship, but Captain Picard did transfer his love of Shakespeare to his first officer. When Macbeth came up in Dr. Crusher's rotation of plays, Will signed up, and was cast as the doomed king Duncan.

Rehearsals hadn't started yet, so Will did not expect Dr. Crusher to appear at his door. “Hello, doctor. Can I help you with something?”

“I need to check your closet,” she said, pushing past him and heading right to the bedroom. “I'm making the set design and costume decisions now—deciding whether to do modern Macbeth or stick to the period—I need to see what you have. It might give me an idea.”

Will chuckled to himself. Others warned him about Dr. Crusher's tendency to raid her actors' closets, and now he got to see it up close. “By all means.”

He followed her into the bedroom and met a smiling Dr. Crusher. Clutched in her hands: one of his kilts.

“Will,” she breathed. “Why did you never say you had period costumes?”

“They're not costumes.” The amusement of watching Dr. Crusher's excitement started to wear off. He'd never had to explain his clothing collection before. “They're practical. I wear them on Risa and... you know, when I'm off duty.”

Dr. Crusher's attention returned to the closet and her eyes lit up again. “Oh, my! How many are there?” She pulled out his uniform kilt, the gray one, the blue tartan he bought a few years ago, and the large red plaid he used for a great kilt that he bought on a whim. “Will...” she nearly sighed his name, her smile so wide, it looked too big for her face. “These are perfect. Please, let me use them for the play? The long one alone is perfect for Duncan.”

“The great kilt?” He took the hanger from her and examined the long piece of plaid. On his last trip to Earth, he saw the large swathe included among the more standard kilts and didn't quite know what to make of it. Some quick research told him the fabric was folded into a great kilt, an ancestor of the garment he so loved, sometimes worn into battle. That was good enough for him and he bought it on the spot. He hadn't really had a chance to wear it yet...

“Please, Will, please? It would mean so much to me.” She held the plaid against her chest, almost hugging it, and her eyes shined with the mad genius of an artist. How could Will refuse?

“Alright, you can use them.”

“Thank you so much, Will! This will be my best Shakespeare yet.”

Riker didn't know if Dr. Crusher was talking up the play, or if the Enterprise's crew just had a particular liking for Macbeth, but in the weeks beforehand, it felt like wherever he went, it's all anyone wanted to talk about. “I heard you're in Crusher's play, Commander. I'm looking forward to seeing it.” “Beverly told me this Macbeth would blow the doors off the theatre. I can't wait!”

When Picard stopped next to him and whispered, “I hear you're in the Scottish Play?” Will knew the audience was going to be larger than usual.

The night of the play, Will took extra care folding and tying the great kilt, and securing it in place. True, he once went to an official Starfleet reception with nothing under his kilt, but he was a young officer then, bold and brash enough to do it without a second thought. Tonight was different, the Enterprise wasn't just any old ship, it was _his_ ship. At all times, Will was a heartbeat away from a battlefield promotion to Captain Riker. Everyone on the Enterprise knew his face, they knew his name, and tonight, one wrong step might ensure they knew his cock as well.

He checked the belt and the tie on his great kilt one last time and took a deep breath. There was no turning back or flaking out now, not without Dr. Crusher hunting him down tomorrow morning and using her extensive medical knowledge to make his death look like an accident. With his head held high, Will took his place on the stage.

While Duncan wasn't a large role, Will threw himself into it. He made his speeches and held his own against the Enterprise's more seasoned actors. When his turn on the stage was finished, he stayed in the wings, watching the rest of the play.

The audience cheered when the final curtain came. Not the usual, polite clapping of an Enterprise audience, but loud hoots and whistles. Beverly whiskey backstage and grabbed Riker's hand, hauling him out for the curtain call. As they bowed, bowed, and bowed again, Will couldn't stop smiling. He forgot about the kilt, forgot about the fear of his cock popping out on stage because he didn't tie the great kilt correctly, he forgot about everything that wasn't his friends and peers enjoying the performance. Sometimes, he forgot what it was like to be respected for more than his job.

 

~

 

4\. For Deanna

“It's my birthday next week.” Deanna sat down at Will's table in ten Forward, laying her arms across the pad he was trying to read.

“Yes, I know,” he said. “I was going to ask what you wanted to do. Unless you already have an idea?” Will and Deanna were strictly friends now, but the rules of their relationship were bent a little around birthdays. Nothing made Will happier than to give Deanna everything she wanted on her birthday, which usually meant chocolate and a romantic day together. Usually, she was happy to stand by and enjoy whatever he planed for them, she'd never actually asked for something specific.

“I'm having a party. I want you to come, and I want you to wear this.” She reached under the table and pulled out a box, placing it in front of Will.

His work completely forgotten, Will opened up the box and immediately closed it again. He took a quick look around—Ten Forward wasn't too busy right now, just a few other crew members having a quiet drink on the other side of the bar—then opened the box a crack. As he suspected, leather. But the pleats were odd, it reminded him of...

“Did you...” he opened the box a little more, getting a better look, “did you get me a leather kilt?” Will whispered the words. He'd been to Risa with Deanna many, many times, and she knew about his fondness for kilts, she'd even worn his great kilt around his quarters, both of them laughing at how the fabric nearly swallowed her tinier form. “Deanna, that's not how birthdays work, I'm supposed to get you something.”

“Exactly. This is your present to me. I want you to come to my birthday party next week, wearing this kilt. I saw you in Dr. Crusher's play, I know you don't have any scruples about wearing it in public.” She stood up, leaving Will with the box. “I'll see you later for dinner?”

“Yeah, sure, we can meet up.” Will was a little distracted, still examining the kilt through the small opening in the box. It didn't look very traditional, and definitely not like any of the kilts he already had.

“Good.” Deanna leaned down and kissed his cheek, which was really just a pretense to whisper in his ear: “At my party, I expect you to be very _traditional_.”

Before Will could make sure he knew exactly what she meant, Deanna was already halfway to the door, leaving him alone in Ten Forward with a new kilt for his collection.

He didn't try on the leather kilt right away, for some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on, Will decided to wait until the party, so the feeling was new... more exciting. Turns out, this was one of his better decisions.

Twenty minutes before he left for Deanna's quarters, Will shucked his uniform and pulled on a cobalt blue shirt (Deanna liked this one, she said it brought out his eyes). Only then did he contemplate the leather kilt, still in the box Deanna handed him. He picked it up and slipped it on like any other kilt, but right away, this was different.

The soft leather slid against his skin, caressing every inch of him. It was like wrapping his cock and balls in silk. He didn't even have it fully on and had to stop, just to luxuriate in the feel of the fabric. Biting his lip, Will held back a moan as the first pleat slid over his cock. “Oh, Deanna,” he whispered, fastening the belt, “you are going to pay for this...” He slid his boots on and checked the mirror. With some careful arranging of the pleats, it almost didn't look like Will was walking around with a semi. He suspected that was Deanna's master plan.

The walk to Deanna's quarters was agonizing in all the best ways. When he reached her quarters, the party was already off to a good start. Worf was losing at poker in one corner, Geordi and a few others danced and swayed to music on the other side of the room, and Data stood helpfully by the replicator, passing out drinks. Will caught Deanna's eye and she smiled, floating over to him with a drink in each hand.

She passed one to him. “Thank you for coming, Will. You look amazing.”

“Thank you.” As soon as the glass passed from her fingers to his, Deanna's now free hand latched onto Will's ass. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You are terrible.” He followed it up with a quick kiss to her cheek.

Deanna simply smiled. “You're the one who finally wore a kilt on the ship. You opened the floodgates and only have yourself to blame.”

All night, Deanna stayed at Will's side, her hand firmly attached to his ass. He didn't mind. They were old friends, and even older lovers, and birthday sex was something of a tradition with them. No one else seemed to care how _close_ he and Deanna were, which gave Riker a strange warmth in his chest. It wasn't strange that his friends loved them and didn't care about any casual relationship they might have, more weird to get all warm and fuzzy thinking about their friends thinking about their sex life. Maybe he'd had too much to drink...

Will didn't even notice the party was over until Deanna flopped down on the couch next to him and slid her hand under his kilt. He started a little and looked around. They were alone. The little thrill of half panic disappeared and Will spread his legs, giving Deanna full access and an invitation. _Come on in._

Deanna took her time, slowly tracing her way up one of his thighs and down the other, her long nails tickling in all the right ways. Her thumb brushed against his balls and Will sighed. “Oh, yeah...” but Deanna continued the slow, tortuous trail around all his most sensitive parts. Apparently, she was going to enjoy every moment of this by making him squirm. Fine, it was her birthday, she could have some fun.

Dark eyes rolled over Will, her gaze so heavy, he could almost feel it. A tingle of their old telepathic connection rumbled in the back of his mind and, suddenly, Riker knew exactly what Deanna wanted.

Grabbing her by the hips, Will lifted them both off the couch and carried Deanna across the room. Holding her up with one arm, he swept the left over drinks off the table and laid her down. Their minds in perfect sync, Deanna pulled up her skirt just as Will lifted his kilt. While he was a big fan of foreplay, Deanna never needed much, with her mind inside his, they were both more than ready. One thrust and he was inside her, their hips snapping together like they _belonged_ together.

They both moaned and Will spent the first few, glorious thrusts remembering how good it was between them. When the heady fog of betazoid telepathy cleared some, Will sighed. “You are so naughty sometimes. Asking me to wear leather in public, knowing what it would feel like...”

Deanna arched her back, rotating her hips and making Will moan. “It's my birthday. I'll be as naughty as I want, thank you. You can't say you're not enjoying it.” Her fingers played with the hem of the kilt for a second until Riker grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

“That I cannot. Thank you for getting me a present on your birthday. Now, please, let me return the gift.”

Deanna braced one hand against the wall—she didn't need a psychic connection to know Will was ready for a pounding fuck, it's exactly what she wanted as well. Their hands twined together, Will placed the other hand on her hip and pulled out until only the tip of his cock was left...

The first thrust sent them both groaning, as did the second and third. The leather from the kilt caressed their skin, fluttering at each movement. Will thrust again, building up more momentum each time until the only thing he could hear was Deanna' near constant moan. She wrapped her legs around his hips, holding on as tight as she could.

It was probably only a few minutes, but the with depth of their connection, it felt like hours. The bright spark of orgasm started inside Deanna and as she arched, her body squeezing and tightening on Will's cock, he came with her, both of them moaning loud enough to wake half the deck.

All his stamina disappeared suddenly and Will stumbled back, pulling out of Deanna and half collapsing against the wall behind him. “Maybe the couch would have been better,” he panted.

“Mmm, possibly.”

After a moment, they managed to get to their feet. Deanna collapsed against Will's side and he almost toppled over again. They both hobbled to the bedroom. “Sleep here tonight?” Deanna said. “Help me clean up in the morning?”

“Sure.” Will lowered her into the bed and started stripping his clothes. “One condition: I don't have to sleep in the kilt.”

 

~

 

5\. For Data

If you asked Will, he couldn't tell you how it started. One night, after a poker game in his quarters, Data stayed behind to help clean up. The android spent a moment staring at Riker before asking, “May I kiss you?” and now they had sex sometimes. Will didn't know what it was, and part of him didn't care, he and Data were friends and they enjoyed each other's company. He just left it at that.

And to be honest, it wasn't the worst set up. After a long shift on the bridge, he'd come back to his quarters to find Data had replicated a massage table and wanted to try it out. Riker did manage to get a kind of answer out of Data once, he didn't know if it helped, though: “You have given me relationship advice in the past, and while I appreciate it, it has not worked for me. I have therefore concluded that my most valuable relationships are with friends, and wish to strengthen those. You seem the most inclined to appreciate a friends with benefits type relationship, like with Counselor Troi.” Will didn't know which part of that he liked less, that Data had given up on romance, or that someone had taught him the phrase “friends with benefits.”

It wasn't all one sided, Riker getting all the pleasure he wanted from an indefatigable lover, some days, he'd return to his quarters to find Data had a request. Today for example.

It wasn't so much of a verbal request as a loud hint. A very loud hint. Sitting on the middle of Riker's bed was one of his kilts, the blue tartan.

Before he reached for it, Data's soft, even voice floated in from the living room. “Please wear only that. I will join when you are ready.” Will didn't even see the android waiting in his quarters. It wasn't the first time that had happened, for having all the conversational tact of a wrecking ball, Data was surprisingly stealthy.

He stripped out of his uniform and put on the kilt. It was one of the first ones he bough, so the material was warm and familiar, comfortable as an old set of sheets that still held the scent of an almost forgotten lover. He ran his hands from his naked chest, down over his hips and down the soft fabric of the kilt, enjoying the feel in a sensual, but calm way. Will took one last moment to himself before calling out to Data. “Come in.”

Warm, solid arms wrapped around him from behind, pulling him in close. “Thank you,” Data said, the words rumbling against Will's shoulder.

“Can I ask why you have a sudden interest in my kilt collection?” Macbeth was a long time ago, so the possibility it sparked Data's interest in Will's collection was remote.

“I have recently discovered that hidden sexual activity can lead to heightened arousal. I wanted to test that theory.”

It took a second to untangle the Data speak (made a little more difficult by half the blood in Will's brain quickly heading south). “You figured out that thinking about my cock but not seeing it is sexy?” Well, he had a point there. How many times did someone on Risa slide a hand under his kilt, and the thought of it being more _secret_ made Will come faster?

“Exactly.”

Will couldn't argue with that logic. He rotated a little and leaned on the dresser, bending just enough to present his ass to Data. “Thank you,” Data said again.

Data spent a few more agonizing minutes stroking his hands over Will's chest and arms, lightly massaging his muscles and just appreciating the body he had free reign to explore. Say what you will about Data's lack of humanity, at times, he was more human than most.

Just as Riker was about to burst, Data's hand reached between his legs and cupped his balls, bringing a small amount of relief. “Data,” Will groaned, “do you also have an interest in orgasm denial? Because you might have to talk to someone else about that.”

“Am I going too slow? Very well.” One firm hand wrapped around his cock and Will let out a long moan.

He collapsed forward on the dresser, supporting his weight on his elbows. Through the gap between his body and the dresser, Will saw the smooth line of his kilt sway a little, but not nearly enough to suggest there was a hand between his legs. His cock jumped at the thought and Will conceded to Data's point. “Yeah, I like this,” he panted.

“Good.”

With the limited view Will had, he saw the bottom drawer of his dresser slide open. A flash of a familiar bottle caught his eye and he widened his stance, giving Data more than enough access. Part of him marveled as Data's ability to stroke his cock with one hand and uncap a bottle of lube with the other, enviable dexterity in the throws of passion.

Cool lube brushed his asshole and Riker let his head fall to the top of his dresser, closing his eyes to better concentrate on the sensations. “Oh yeah, please.”

Two cool fingers pressed inside Will and he gasped. The kilt ruffled a little and he felt Data's lips press a kiss to his skin, followed quickly by teeth biting gently. Will opened his eyes again to keep from downing in invisible pleasure. But still, he could only see the faint movement of his kilt, nothing to prove he wasn't falling to pieces all on his own.

“Data,” he sighed. Teeth and tongue continued sucking a love bit into his ass. Will's fingers dug into the top of his dresser, his knees starting to shake. “Fuck, Data, I can't... I don't think I can stand anymore...” The fingers slid out of his ass and Data stood up, quickly guiding Will to the bed and onto his back.

Data wasted no time. As soon as Will was on his back, he disappeared under the kilt again. This time, three fingers slid into Will's asshole as Data's mouth closed around his cock. It was a little more obvious this time, he could definitely see the android perched on his bed, head firmly lodged between Will's legs, but that was the end of it. He squeezed his thighs together to try and get a better idea of what Data was doing, which only made him more aware that he couldn't see what was happening.

Throwing his head back, Will gave himself over. The mouth around his cock, the fingers unerringly hitting his prostate with each thrust... it was all too much for him to think about. His thighs squeezed tight to Data and he came, shouting long and loud, Data holding on until Will was good and done.

In his strange, Data way, the android knew exactly when Will became too sensitive to touch and pulled away. He retreated to the bathroom and returned with a damp cloth to wipe away the lube. Will grunted his thanks and rolled over, already half asleep. “You know,” he sighed. “One of these days, I'm going to make you go to pieces. Then you'll understand.”

With the last of his wits slipping away, Will untied the belt and pushed the kilt off. Data returned it to the closet before stripping his uniform and joining Will on the bed. He leaned back into the comforting, solid form and sighed again. “One day,” Will said, “I'll figure out what I can do for you.”

“I look forward to it.”

 

The End

 

**Author's Note:**

> I watched a few videos about great kilts, how to put them on and their history, so if I made any mistakes, I apologize. I really tried to do my research. It's also been a really, really long time since I've seen or read Macbeth. I tried to think the character most likely to wear a great kilt and landed on Duncan. If I got anything wrong, please, let me know.


End file.
